Who I'm With Tomorrow
by Pseudomonas
Summary: What happens after two friends kiss and one wants to pretend like it never happened? A short story of how Hermione decides to deal with such a situation. Rated M for sexual content.


Who I'm With Tomorrow

Hermione reached for the bottle of fire whiskey even as she felt another blush roll across her cheeks. _This is a bad idea,_ she thought to herself. _I should stop now._

"Come on, Hermione! I am piss drunk and you're still no challenge!" The redhead on the other side of chess board barked at her. She couldn't help but mirror the lopsided smile on his equally red face.

"Oh, and I haven't had a drop to drink myself? I have no idea how those pieces got there in the first place!" She giggled longer than necessary to disguise the thoughts flowing through her head. _I have no idea how _I_ got here! I should leave! It's just going to end up like last time... I guess that's what I came for, though... _ The blue door leading out of Ron's apartment was on the other side of the room. All she had to do was get up off of the floor, away from the "innocent" game of chess, and apparate home on the other side of the door. Instead she stayed, her hands gripping the fire whiskey bottle tightly as she swallowed another mouthful of the scorching liquid. The scene was all too familiar.

Hermione's mind wandered to six weeks ago, the memory taking place in the same London apartment. Whenever Harry and Ginny had special plans, or whenever Ron and Hermione simply couldn't handle the happy couples' inappropriate behavior in public, the two friends would keep each other company. Rarely did they drink as much as they did that night, but Ron claimed that he would need an entire bottle of fire whiskey to endure a two hour muggle movie. As the program finished, Hermione attempted to magically send the television set home, but found it difficult to concentrate.

"I think I drank a little more than I should have...." she muttered as she flicked her wand back and forth. The television started to smoke slightly.

Ron laughed and flicked his own wand sending the contraption back to Hermione's flat. "Makes sense. You'd need to be drunk to like a movie about vampires and muggles snogging. Can't believe you wasted two hours of my life on that. At least the last one about the star-girl was funny."

"In my defense, the book was much more entertaining." She sat on the far end of the couch, her head tilted back with her eyes closed. The world spun less in this position.

Ron chuckled again, and Hermione suddenly found herself high in the air. A strong pair of arms was holding her close to a solid something with a wonderful smell.

"Do you want me to vomit on you?" She groaned into his chest as the motion of walking caused her to rock slightly.

"I would really like it if you didn't. But there's no way you can apparate to that safe point and then walk down the block to your apartment in muggle-land." He stopped moving and slowly lowered her down.

Hermione opened her eyes to see a blue ceiling. "Am I in your bed?"

"No, it's Neville's." She didn't have to look at him—she could hear the grin on his big goofy face.

"Ron, honestly! I'm fine. The walk isn't even that far. And I can apparate drunk better than you can any day."

"You can't count that one time I apparated us into that bush. That was a... extra-... extre-..."

"Extraneous."

"That was an extraneous example. And the _only_ example you can think of."

"What about that time we popped into the shop and found George and Angelina-"

"That was Harry's fault!"

Hermione failed to respond between the peals of laughing escaping her mouth.

"You know what? Next time you get drunk and you wanna apparate home, live in a WIZARD community and we won't have to fight about this!" Despite the irritated tone in his words, both his eyes and his smile suggested their conversation was not headed toward a fight tonight.

"No, really Ron, I can't steal your bed. If I'm staying over I'll take the couch, I've passed out there before."

She sat up, only to have Ron gently push her back down. She hardly noticed his hands pushing on her shoulders. All she could see was that handso-_goofy_ face, inches from hers. She viciously labeled his face as such and ensured her mind wouldn't describe it any other way.

"At least if I'm on the couch I'll be that much closer to the door when you have to rush me to St. Mungo's."

"Why will I have to rush you to St. Mungo's?" A look of mild concern cross his still very-close-_goofy-_face.

"For when the alcohol poisoning kicks in and I stop breathing." Hermione closed her eyes again and chuckled a little.

"Nah, I can do CPR. No good spell to get you breathing again, so the ministry makes all aurors take a class."

Hermione kept her eyes close, but let an expression of doubt cross her face.

"I doubt you passed then, what without my notes there for you to study." She continued to smile at her little joke.

"Oh yeah?"

Hermione was still smiling when she felt fingers pinch her nose shut and lips press against hers. Shock kept her from moving or opening her eyes, or even attempting to breathe. When she did open her eyes, he was already standing straight again next to the bed. His hands were together, palm down, pausing above her chest. He seemed to consider his actions, then shifted farther down to press lightly on the lower region of her ribcage.

"See? Perfect." He turned to her with a smug look on his face.

Hermione involuntarily blinked while searching for the right words to say. The shock was fading and being replaced with a not-so-unfamiliar feeling that she had banished years ago.

"Perfect? Really, Ronald? You think my lungs are in my abdomen?" A cocky smile crossed her face as he started to frown.

"I know where your lungs are! I just thought you'd smack me if I went anywhere near your chest!"

"Right, right." Hermione rolled her eyes, and silently congratulated herself for her wit. "You were probably in the corner of the class wearing the dunce hat or something. Or having a rubber-chicken fight with Harry." A smile spread across her face as her eyes involuntarily closed once more.

"You mean a cock fight?"

Hermione managed to roll her eyes with her eyelids still closed. "You're such a crude, disgusting little boy."

"You make that sound sexy."

Hermione frowned. _What did he say?_ _Did I hear that right?_ Before she finished the thought, Hermione felt Ron's body crush against hers and hot lips press against her neck. Her eyes shot open—she must have heard him correctly. Acting instinctually, her hands pulled his face to hers and their mouths locked in a deep, almost painful kiss. She moaned lightly into his mouth when she felt his tongue slide against her teeth.

"Please don't make that sound." He whispered in a low, seductive voice. Despite his reluctant words, his hands continued to slide up and down her waist while his lips left burning spots along her neck.

"Why not?"

"It's harder to resist." She gasped when his tongue worked its way up her neck to her jawbone. "I'll give you anything you want, but only if you want it."

Another shiver of pleasure wiped through her body, but at the same time that strong voice in her head made her freeze. _You can't_, it said. _You have no obligations, but can you be so sure he doesn't?_ Unwillingly, Hermione rolled Ron to one side of the bed, stopping the waves of pleasure that were emanating from the places his lips touched.

"You don't want to think about it first?" He murmured into her neck and began placing feather light kisses against her sensitive skin. However, guilt was already overcoming her thoughts. Any seductive lines or moves she had been thinking of two minutes ago were drowning in a sea of regret and shame.

"Ron, I saw you with that beautiful blonde woman just last week. You two seemed pretty intimate then." She sighed, his expression changing slightly with every word she spoke. Hermione and Harry never met any of Ron's girlfriends. They only caught glimpses of them during rare occasions when Ron and his "flavor of the month" weren't confining themselves to her bedroom. "Don't tell me you aren't still dating her, Ron. This isn't right, as much as I want this, I won't do it."

"Just because I'm with someone doesn't mean I can't be with you, Hermione." His blue eyes seemed genuinely sincere, contrasting sharply with the very dishonest words coming from his mouth.

"Ron! That's a horrible thing to say. Just because you're incredibly loyal to Harry and I doesn't mean that you can be unfaithful to everyone else!" Hermione hated the words coming from his mouth, but knew she wanted to hear them. She knew she should leave, but every piece of her wanted to stay. She found herself probing her mind for anything to prolong this moment she had dreamed about when she was still a hormonal teenager in Hogwarts.

"Look, Hermione. Yes, I'm with someone right now, but that doesn't mean I'm married to her. It doesn't matter how much longer it lasts, because I know it won't," his arms wrapped around her frame, bringing her close to his chest once again. "It doesn't matter who I was with yesterday or the day before—" Hermione frowned slightly into his shirt, "—what matters is who I'm with now, and who I want to be with tomorrow."

Hermione had let her face rest against him and didn't hear anything else he said the rest of the night. She had fallen asleep in that comfortable position quickly and only awoke several hours later when the rising sun sent bright yellow rays across her face. Ron looked so handsome sleeping, even with his goofy mouth hanging open and the ridiculously loud snores reverberating from it. She cursed silently as she remembered she needed to be meeting her parents in only a few hours for her mother's birthday brunch, and slowly disentangled herself from his arms. _What I wouldn't give to stay here all day next to him._

She was only able to leave knowing that he would probably stop by her place by the end of the day to see her. Didn't he admit to having strong feelings for her last night? Surely he would want to see her, now that he knew she felt the same way. Hermione had left a small silly note suggesting they meet up later.

But he never came. The next day was a long Monday at work, but Hermione managed to delude herself into thinking that he would somehow contact her. _Perhaps he was busy ending things with the blonde woman,_ she thought to herself. _I shouldn't be so concerned and obsessed_. But Monday came and went like the day before, slow and Ron-less.

Finally, the harsh truth sunk in—the two of them were drunk, and Ron was known for his womanizing tendencies. She had fallen for his sweet talk and tender kisses like all of the other idiots he had had a turn with. If she didn't already truly believe she had been duped, she did Wednesday night when she, Harry, Ginny and Ron were to meet at the local pub for dinner and drinks. Ron had pretended like nothing happened, and a hurt Hermione followed suit and put on the best air of nonchalance she could muster with a broken heart.

But here she was again nine weeks later, sitting in his blue apartment, clutching another bottle of fire whiskey, waiting for him to make a move. _And not on the chessboard_, she thought to herself angrily. _You are setting yourself up for this. You deserve whatever heartache will come._

"Well, my knight just took your queen, Hermione, I think we may as well start the next game." His jovial attitude never wavered during the short time it took for Hermione to flash back through the painful weeks of indifference. Ron loosened the tie around his neck and rolled the sleeves of his dress shirt higher before he took a long swig from his own bottle of fire whiskey.

Hermione sighed deeply. He may not initiate anything. After all, to get herself here, she had to claim that her chess skills had improved immensely and that she could probably beat Ron. Hermione knew he wouldn't be able to turn down such a bold challenge, and sure enough, he hauled her back to his room once the check was paid for. She didn't really have a plan, but she knew what she wanted tonight. It was now or never, and the consequences of tonight wouldn't matter in several weeks, anyway.

"Something wrong?" Ron finally noticed the change in her demeanor with the last audible sigh. "I'll let you win one if it's making you that depressed."

"Ron... Can I ask you something?" How was she going to start this?

"If it's how to suck less at chess, I'm sorry but I think you're a lost cause. Don't worry you can't be perfect at everything." The cocky grin returned to his face, but faltered when he noticed his witty comment didn't change her mood.

"I want you to be honest... well... no. I want you to tell me what you think would be best. Not like I can prove or disprove your answer. I mean, regardless of your answer, I won't be upset. I'll know what you're thinking depending on how you respond, so you don't have to be honest..." The words seemed to tumble out of her mouth faster than she could organize them. _Merlin, it was easier to form sentences when I was being tortured by Bellatrix._

"Uh... okay..." he muttered, the struggle to keep up with the conversation evident on his face. That goofy face.

"Ron, are you dating someone right now?" She forced herself to stare into his dark blue eyes for the first time in two months. Eye contact would have only allowed him to see the hurt and confusion she had been feeling after that night.

"No." He said it so honestly, like all of those other lies he had spoken last time. His expression was no longer confused but reassuring.

His ability to act so sincere made Hermione wince. _At least he seems to be up for this then, he could have said yes. He knows that I have to take his word... What do I say now?_

"Alright, then," she slid the chess board aside and scooted a little closer to Ron's side of the carpet, making sure that her jeans didn't bunch unflatteringly in any areas as she did so. "I received an offer from my boss today... it's a nice raise and promotion to Regional Head of Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures."

"That's great, Hermione! Congratulations!" His hand rested on her knee in what was probably supposed to be a congratulatory pat, but the surge of warmth that radiated from her stomach strongly disagreed. The warm smile that crossed his face only stoked the burning into a fire. "What region is it in? Is it close to London?"

"It's in America... I guess it depends on how you define close." She averted her eyes to the hand still resting on her left knee—she didn't want to look directly as his shocked face. "I took the job, and I'll be moving to New York in about four weeks. The US wanted help from the ministry with the sudden illegal importing of magical creatures, and they agreed to hire me on for a year or two until things are running smoothly." Hermione peeked through her eyelashes at him, only to see that he was staring at his hand on her knee, too.

"Well... Good for you," he replied quietly. "We'll miss you... but you'll have to come back for holidays... and me and Harry-" Hermione chose to think about her next move and not to correct his grammar, "-will abuse auror privileges to visit you... but that's a long time to be away from home," his tone was supportive but reserved. "You know we'll do whatever we can to help."

"That's what I'm getting to," she started. Hermione placed both of her hands on top of his, still resting on her knee. "That night... when we were in your bed..." she gulped nervously and kept her eyes on their hands even though she felt his face angle towards her and his body stiffen. "You said that you would give me anything I wanted... Is that offer still available?" As she finished lamely, she returned her gaze to his blue eyes for the full dramatic effect. She mentally kicked herself for not thinking of a more clever line before starting this tonight.

Ron seemed slightly surprised, but recovered quickly when she faced him. "I... I would do anything for you," his eyes were suddenly piercing, and Hermione's breath caught in her throat. "What do you want from me?"

_He knows exactly what I'm talking about, why is he making me do this?_ Her frustration made her bold, and she lowered her gaze to his parted lips. "You can start with this," she leaned closer towards his face and removed her left hand from her knee to hold his cheek in place.

Thankfully, he removed the small distance between them—their lips met softly at first, and Hermione froze, praying that he wouldn't pull back and reject her. But once his hands outstretched to hold her waist, her instincts took over once more and she found her hands pushing his chest back into the couch. Calloused hands found their way under the hem of her shirt and urged her closer to their owner. Hermione's body responded eagerly by throwing her right leg over his lap, and soon she discovered she was straddling him on the ground, chess pieces long forgotten and kicked across the living room. Burning lips trailed from her lips along her jawbone towards her ear, and Hermione whimpered without restraint.

"Are you sure this is what you want?" He whispered between scorching kisses down her neck to her collar bone.

Hermione couldn't find her voice. The sensations he was causing were overpowering her thoughts, so she let her body respond for her. She let her hips rock slightly into his groin, feeling a small bulge through the two layers of jeans separating them. Ron moaned loudly and his pace increased feverishly. His lips were against hers once again, crushing them with force while his tongue massaged them when they parted. She became aware that the steady rock of her hips was quickly becoming a hard grind, the pressure from each one sending waves of pleasure to her toes and up her spine.

Suddenly they were leaving the messy living room, Hermione's legs wrapped tightly around his waist and Ron's arms crushing her close to his chest. Between their forceful kissing, Hermione opened her eyes to see the familiar blue ceiling once again. Somehow Ron's and her shirt had been lost during the move and Hermione reveled the in feeling of his bare muscled chest against hers. His fingers deftly removed her bra before they landed on the bed, Hermione pressed into his sheets once again.

The cold of the room went unnoticed as they continued to strip off clothing—Hermione managed to kick off Ron's jeans and stifle a giggle when his orange Chudley Cannons boxers were revealed. She barely registered him fumbling with her buttons as she reached a hand down his shorts to grip him tightly. He froze instantly and groaned loudly, the sound alone exciting Hermione and encouraging her. It seemed to only grow thicker and harder the more her hands moved along his shaft. Ron finally regained his composure and practically ripped her jeans down to her knees. His fingers quickly found her wet entrance and entered her eagerly, making it Hermione's turn to moan loudly and freeze with sudden pleasure. Her entire body convulsed involuntarily when his forefinger pressed forcefully into her clit. Eyes shut tightly and screams were barely contained as moans. She couldn't last another second—she needed to feel him inside of her.

Fighting to control herself, she managed to finally kick his boxers down to his ankles and press him against her. Ron understood instantly, but rubbed against her wetness instead. Hermione felt helpless, she was sure the faces she was making were very undignified and would be regretted later, but she didn't care. This was Ron, and although he wouldn't stop watching her writhe and moan beneath him, she didn't feel self-conscious for once. The torture finally ended when his head pushed past her soft folds. Hermione cried out at first, but the sudden completeness she felt was better than anything she had ever experienced. Ron would pull out slowly, only to thrust back into her just before she could collect her thoughts. Between eye-closing bursts of pleasure, neither looked away, each not wanting to miss any detail of the other's face during this amazing and unifying moment.

As his pace became faster, Hermione found herself rocking into him in time. When she moaned he seemed to drive harder, responding by encouraging the un-Hermione-like sounds. He braced himself on one forearm and Hermione saw his other hand travel down. Seconds later, she cried out when his fingers managed to rub her clit while he simultaneously thrust into her at an increasing speed. An incredible pleasure began building up in her core, and soon she couldn't keep her eyes on him. Her eyes shut, her body trembled uncontrollably and her head slammed into his pillow as the pressure released. She came whimpering his name seconds before he did, her walls closing tightly on him as he emptied himself completely. When he was spent, he collapsed on her, still kissing her bare chest and panting heavily.

Hermione found his weight reassuring instead of crushing—it told her that he was real. This entire experience was real, regardless of whether it was something he would acknowledge later. When he finally rolled over to her side, still kissing any part of her still above the sheets, she rolled with him into his outstretched arm.

"Thank you," she whispered into his chest.

"I would do that every night for forever if you wanted," was his breathless reply. "I care about you so much Hermione, and as more than a friend. I want you to know that."

Hermione didn't know how to reply. Was he being truthful for once? Or did he just really enjoy the sex?

"I know you have to go. This is what is right for you, you do best in those sorts of situations. But when you come back... I'll be here. One day we'll both be ready, but until then, I'll always be here for you," his touching words were sealed with a sweet kiss on her forehead.

She frowned when he finally pulled away. How could she believe anything he said? But it sounded so real, so sincere. A single tear fell from her eyes and into the sheets, and then she knew. Regardless of whether he was telling the truth or not, she would always believe him. She loved him. Despite her attempts to deny it, or to replace him with other men, she would always love him and his goofy face. _It's really more handsome than goofy, I guess_, she let herself admit. She would have to believe him then, believe that they one day would be together, and hope that they would be happy. They both still had growing to do, but one day, everything would be just right, and being together would be as natural as breathing. People would ask them how they finally got together, and theirs would be a long story. After all, it doesn't matter who he is with today, but who he will be with tomorrow.

Thanks for reading, sorry if it seemed kind of rushed. The story had been bugging me for a while, so when my next day off came around I spent my free time working on it, limiting the amount of review time it got. Please flame away! Constructive flames are best of course. Good fires come from constructive flames! Of course, feel free to point out my stupid movie references in the beginning!


End file.
